


nightmares

by feojpeg



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Both of them, Monsters, Other, Poetry, gore mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25419925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feojpeg/pseuds/feojpeg
Summary: There is a monster under Jim‘s bed. He trained it pretty well.
Relationships: Jim Moriarty/Sebastian Moran
Kudos: 7





	nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> english majors dont kill me, i‘m not a native speaker and english syllables and rhyme schemes confuse me. i spat this out at 6am halfdreaming while my cat tried eating my toes.

There‘s a monster quietly hiding

under Jimmy‘s bed at dawn. 

He goes to school and does his work

and doesn‘t think of it at all.

It‘s there when he comes back again,

the sun is out to sink,

hiding still in total silence,

moving not an inch. 

And all he sees is two big eyes

that look at him from there. 

They’re squinted tight to save themselves

from all the dying light;

when morning comes it sleeps so tight

and doesn’t make a sound,

but as it darkens in the sky

the rage in it will grow. 

Jim found the monster sleeping once

under his windowsill,

right before the sun came out

and was set out to kill. 

He named the monster Bastian,

he promised not to scream,

so long as it would help him, too,

to banish all his dreams. 

The monster named Sebastian,

it wasnt really sure

what had happened on its path

to make it this way, too. 

But wondering gets it not far,

it has such little time.

The sun is on her way again,

the moon has space to glow. 

In the night its wildness grows

like plagues in metropoles,

like fire in a rain forest 

the fire in him growls. 

So many teeth and blood on claws

that sprawl on him like weeds;

Jim‘s room is left a battle ground

before the dawn is close. 

And every morning Jim wakes up

to find his place a mess

of bloody bits and skin and tongues

and spit and broken bones. 

He considers what they do,

what is and isn‘t life,

but wanders off into the bath

and calmly sorts his lies. 


End file.
